buzzcut season

9.

I whip out a cigarette from my pocket after I throw one more punch.

My hand aches. The second time I punch him he moved and I nailed him in the jaw, painful for both of us.

Luka stands beside me in the alleyway outside Mal's work.

I kneel down and take the cigarette out of my mouth.

"You fucking touch her again, you freak," I say. "And I'll be back."

I stand up and stare down at him crippled on the ground. I hand the cigarette to Luka who takes a drag.

It's exhilarating to have power over someone else. Especially an asshole like Randy.

He's nose bleeds and he's got bruises starting on his temple and jaw.

I turn away and Luka follows me.

"A bonding experience," I say to him as he hands me the cigarette back.

We turn a corner back onto the busy street.

"Starbucks?"

"Sure."

I rub my knuckles as we walk. I definitely didn't break my hand this time but it doesn't feel good.

Mal is right though, eventually I'm going to do serious damage. Maybe I'll become ambidextrous and start punching with my right hand.

It's beginning to get dark a lot earlier now. It's seven and it's almost pitch black outside.

This is the first time I've really been one on one with Luka in three years.

Like always we hangout in silence. Comfortable silence.

We reach the Starbucks and walk inside. We sit around for a moment, while we drink our drinks and talk for a bit.

"You still keep in touch with anyone from high school?" He asks.

"Mal and Cam."

"You talk to Cameron?"

"I suppose."

"I haven't seen him in years."

Back in high school we all were little shits. I guess we were considered popular because we were rich assholes.

"He comes over all the time," I sip my drink.

"He the same?"

"Annoying as shit? Yes."

"He have a girlfriend?"

"God, I'd hope not," I laugh.

Luka tilts his head.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Never mind," I laugh.

Luka looks like he ponders for a moment.

"And you?"

"Nah. Dealing with you two shits is already too much."

He nods his head a bit. Like always we hold eye contact for too long before sitting in silence.

I go to ask him if he's kept in contact with anyone from high school but I don't. I'd rather not know.

"So what's with you and Kate?"

He leans back in the chair he's in and kicks his feet onto the coffee table. It's too busy in here for any of the workers to care or notice. Not to mention he looks quite intimidating, blood on his hands, black hair tangled, dark bags under his eyes.

"She's a friend."

He nods his head and some hair falls in front of his face.

It's hard to imagine that he used to be the nicest person I knew.